Chapter 31. Florian
We left at dawn the next day, the sky still streaked with pink as his driver loaded our luggage into the car.
The airport was insane, much like everything else in Knox's world.
Security whisked us through some private lane I'd never known existed, a glass corridor echoing with serious wealth.
I was vibrating, clutching my passport in one hand and my phone in the other (a passport that I didn't have before, by the way, arranged with extra urgency by Knox's team), trailing after Knox like an anxious duckling.
The first-class lounge was another planet.
Polished wood, velvet chairs, soft lighting.
I tried to look unimpressed, but Knox's smirk said he saw right through me.
I hung back as he checked us in, watching him trade a few words with the staff.
People changed course for him. Even the lounge attendant, a woman who looked as though she ran marathons for fun, seemed a little flustered by his attention.
And he was all mine.
We sat in a corner booth and a suited man materialized with a tray: two glasses of champagne, strawberries, fancy cheese, and a stack of tiny pastries so perfect I didn't want to touch them.
I touched them anyway, because I was starving.
I bit into a croissant so buttery it collapsed, flakes sticking to my lips, while I tried not to let it go all over the floor.
Knox watched, one eyebrow arched, lips twitching at the corners.
"Enjoying yourself, little one?" he asked.
I rolled my eyes and popped another piece of croissant in my mouth. "It's not bad," I said with an exaggerated shrug, "if you're into, like, perfect food or whatever."
He chuckled but then gave me a look of mock severity. "Try to contain your enthusiasm."
I grinned and washed the croissant down with a gulp of champagne. The bubbles went straight to my head, relaxing the knot of anxiety between my shoulders, and I rotated my neck to try to make it stop aching.
The flight itself was ridiculous. Our seats were more like little rooms: leather recliners that reclined all the way, walls high enough to block out the other passengers, actual bedding, and a menu with five courses.
I looked around, half expecting to see a celebrity, but the other passengers were just…
people. Older, quieter, dressed in the kind of clothing you don't buy at the mall.
I told myself not to stare and failed spectacularly.
I kept asking myself how come some people had so much money, and others had nothing?
But I told myself I also deserved nice things.
At least, Daddy told me I did, and I had to be a good boy and listen.
Knox settled in next to me, his laptop open but ignored.
He had changed into a soft navy pullover.
I pretended to be engrossed in my phone, scrolling my feed, but I didn't care about it.
Every time I glanced up, he was watching me.
Not just looking. He had a full-on, undistracted gaze that made me squirm in my seat.
"Do you remember your first flight?" he asked at one point, as the attendants came by with warm towels.
I shook my head. "No. I think Finn forgot to buy me a seat, so I sat on his or mom’s lap the whole time and cried the whole way. He lost me at the Houston airport on the layover. I got a free soda from the gate agent."
"That's horrifying," Knox said, but I could tell he was more amused than scandalized.
"Yeah, well, the soda was good," I said. "I think it was the best part of that year."
He looked at me and reached for my hand.
"We'll make better memories this time," he promised.
I didn't know how to answer, so I just nodded, watching the clouds smear across the window.
Halfway through the flight, after the second round of champagne and the second movie, I kicked off my shoes and curled up under the blanket.
I was fighting sleep, determined to make the most of every minute, but Knox reached over and put a hand on my knee.
“You can rest, you know. You don’t have to stay up just to prove some point about being a grown-up. ”
It was so gentle, I felt my cheeks go hot. "I'm not tired," I protested, then yawned.
He laughed, low and quiet. "Come here."
He moved into my suite and tugged me over by the elbow, so my head rested against his chest. I fit there perfectly, like I was made for that exact spot. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, and I let myself relax against him.
I must have dozed, because the next thing I knew, the lights were dimmed and he was stroking my hair, his fingers threading gently through the tangles behind my ear.
“We're starting our descent,” Knox murmured. I glanced at my watch. "You've been dead to the world for three hours. I was about to check your pulse."
“Sorry,” I mumbled. “I didn't mean to sleep.”
“Don't apologize, you silly little boy,” he said, gently. “You look adorable like this.”
The approach to Naples was as spectacular as promised. We dropped through a layer of clouds, and suddenly the sea was everywhere, blue and sparkling, dotted with white sails and the faint outline of distant cliffs. I pressed my face to the window, not caring if I looked childish.
We breezed through customs, another private lane, another smiling attendant, and a black sedan was already waiting on the tarmac.
The driver introduced himself as Matteo, and he drove like he was auditioning for Formula One, weaving through traffic and honking at mopeds that appeared out of nowhere. I clung to the leather door handle and tried to play it cool.
The city was like a painting. Laundry hung from windows, vespas zipped between cars. Knox watched me instead of the scenery, his arm draped across the back seat, his gaze as steady as always.
“You're in love already,” he said.
“Hell yes,” I said. He chuckled. When we broke out of the city and started winding up the coastal road, I couldn't help myself, I bounced in my seat, my breath fogging the glass as I swiveled my head trying to see everything at once.
My knees kept bouncing until Knox placed a steadying hand on my thigh, but even that couldn't stop me from pointing and gasping at each new vista of cliffs, lemon groves, and sea so blue it looked painted.
“Holy shit,” I said, my nose pressed to the glass. “I never thought I’d get to see something like this.”
He smiled. “Only the best boys get to see this.”
A flush of happiness spread through me, so intense I almost couldn't breathe.
We turned off the main road onto a gated drive, cypress and olive trees lining the way. The villa was perched on the cliff with stone and wild bougainvillea, and from the terrace you could see straight down to the water, the kind of view that made your heart stop for a second.
I stepped out of the car and turned in a slow circle, not sure what to look at first. The sky, the sea, the house, or Knox, who was watching me like I was the only thing worth seeing.
“Welcome home,” he said.
***
Inside, the villa was even more surreal: cool tile floors, arched doorways, the scent of lemon and rosemary. Our room was bigger than my entire apartment growing up. The bed was covered in crisp white linens, and when I opened the balcony doors, sea air rushed in.
I sat on the bed, flopped back on the pillows and stared at the ceiling, wondering how anyone ever got used to this.
Knox stepped in, carrying two glasses of some golden drink and a plate of charcuterie.
“Jet lag hits hard the first day,” he said, handing me a glass. “It's limoncello. Made here, in the garden. You'll like it.”
I took a sip, and the taste exploded in my mouth. I couldn't even describe it. It was sour but sweet, delicious, light. But probably the excitement of it all made it even better. I found myself grinning, unable to stop.
He sat beside me on the bed, watching me drink. “Tomorrow, we’ll go to the market in Amalfi. I want you to pick out whatever you want for dinner. You’re in charge. Anything you want.”
“Really?” I asked, surprised. He nodded.
I thought about this, the sudden and terrifying amount of choice. “Can I get five different types of cheese and nothing else?”
He laughed. “If that's what you want, then yes.”
I drained the glass in one go and set it aside. The world felt fuzzy and warm.
“I can get used to it. And to calling the shots as well,” I said, bold and bratty, to get a reaction out of him, but all he did was chuckle loudly.
He stretched out on top of the covers, propping himself up on one elbow so that his body was an inviting, lazy invitation. "Come here.”
I flopped down next to him, the mattress bouncing. He caught me by the hip, rolling me so I was facing him.
“Every time you get bratty, I just want to remind you who you belong to.”
God. I stuck my tongue out at him, partly because I didn't know what to say to that. He laughed and caught my tongue between his lips, sucking and then nipping with just enough threat to make me shiver.
I bit his wrist, not hard, just enough to leave a mark that would fade before morning, just to show him that I also wanted to mark him as my own. He grinned, pleased, and rolled me underneath him, pinning my wrists above my head with one strong hand.
"You're still tired," he observed. "But you want something, don't you?"
I arched into his touch, the need sudden and embarrassing. "Yes, Daddy," I admitted. “I want you all the time.”
He let go of my wrists and slid his hand under my shirt, palm hot over my ribs. He made a satisfied noise and leaned down to kiss me. It was the kind of kiss that told me he was in no rush to be anywhere else in the world. My body responded instantly, my hands climbing under his shirt.